


Keep Her Satisfied

by fettuccine_alfreylo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Come Eating, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Grinding, Kink Meme, Kissing, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slapping, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo/pseuds/fettuccine_alfreylo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly has a secret. It's nothing horrible or life changing. It's just a bit naughty, is all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Her Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a prompt on the kink-meme:  
> http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5950.html?thread=25739070#t25739070
> 
> ~2,000 words worth of smut (including titty fucking). Enjoy!

Molly has a secret. 

It's nothing horrible or life changing. It’s just a bit naughty, is all. 

It's something she's wanted for a quite a while, something she's dying to try; only she's too much of a coward to go through with it. 

That is until one night when an opportunity presents itself. Suddenly the cowardice isn't there anymore. It's replaced with raw need; the need to experience what she craves, to fulfill the intense, primitive desire that the secret has instilled in her. 

Molly has a secret, and it's that she desperately wants Sherlock's cock in between her breasts. 

So she tells him.

“I want you to titty fuck me,” she sighs. She’s sprawled across Sherlock’s bed in nothing but her bra and knickers. He’s been lightly fondling her breasts for a few minutes but all she can think about is how much she wants something else of his between her breasts, instead.

Sherlock stills his hand at her confession. _Oh no. Not good. Not good at all_.

“You want me to _what_?”

He asks the question with an infuriatingly blank expression on his face but Molly can tell from his stiff posture that she’s thoroughly shocked him.

This sexual side of their relationship is relatively new so it comes as no surprise that he’s reacting this way. Not only has she allowed him to take charge in the bedroom up until this point but the actual sex has been ordinary. Vanilla, some would say. Nothing kinky, nothing naughty. No spanking and definitely no dirty talk. Just sex. Sherlock, it turns out, is a bit of a prude.

“Molly?” he tries again.

“Because it’s a fantasy of mine. I want to feel you on my chest. I want to feel how warm you are,” Molly confesses, covering her eyes as a surge of embarrassment rushes through her.

So much for courage.

“You already know how warm I am,” he points out. His hand is still touching her right breast. It’s one good sign, at least.

“It’s…hard to explain. I know how warm you are, yes, but the sensation of you coming between my breasts…it would be such a turn-on for me, Sherlock. I know it may sound…” She trails off when Sherlock removes his hand altogether and rolls off of her. Now completely mortified by his lack of interest, Molly closes her eyes to block out the sight of Sherlock swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

She’s spoiled it. This is the end. Within a matter of seconds she’s managed to singlehandedly ruin her one shot with the only man who has ever counted in her book and it _hurts_. It hurts so much that she can barely breathe much less think of something to say to make light of the situation. All she wants to do is crawl into a hole and stay there because Sherlock is leaving. She said too much. What she told him was too forward and dirty and now he’s _leaving_ because of it.

“I’m waiting.”

She cracks open one eye and realizes that Sherlock hasn’t left. He isn’t going to leave. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his back facing her. When she doesn’t respond right away, he looks over his shoulder and frowns. “Is this the proper way to do it?”

The way he phrases it as a question is so unassuming, so unsure, and so utterly adorable that she could kiss him.

So she does.

“Molly? What are –” He’s cut short as she crawls into his lap and pulls on his hair to align his mouth with hers. This kiss is different but it’s a good kind of different. It’s desperate. It’s passionate. It’s messy. It isn’t hesitant like their very first kiss together and nor is it awkward. It’s just right, and it gives Molly back the confidence she needs to go through with this.

“I’m kissing you, Sherlock. What does it look like?” she breathes, taking a moment to nip at his plump bottom lip. Sherlock responds enthusiastically by continuing the kiss and lightly placing his hands on her hips. Molly takes this as an invitation to grind herself against him until her knickers are wet and he’s hardening beneath her.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps against her mouth. “ _God_. Keep going.”

Though she’s tempted to do as he says, Molly breaks the kiss. Sherlock lets out a low whine of protest but soon quiets as Molly slithers out of his lap. She lands on the hardwood floor in front of him with a graceless _thump_ but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is this moment because she can already tell it’s going to live up to its expectations.

She reaches around her back to undo the clasp of her bra and then shimmies a bit so that the garment slides off her arms and falls to the floor. Sherlock watches her every move but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. The way that his eyes are roving over her naked breasts is more than encouraging.

“Have you ever thought about doing this to me, Sherlock?” Molly asks, taking hold of her exposed breasts and pressing them together. She glances up at him and her breath hitches from the raw desire etched across his features. He looks overwhelmed, out of his element but interested. Very interested.

Sherlock swallows thickly and nods. “Yes.” His voice is strained and deeper in pitch than it normally is.

Molly frowns. “Why have you never told me before?”

A pregnant pause and then, “Because I didn’t think you would like it. I didn’t think you would want to.”

“I want to. God, I want to so bad. I’ve been dreaming about this for _ages._ ” Emboldened by his honesty, Molly leans forward on her knees and pushes his legs apart to show him just how much she wants this. Wants _him_.

The tented front of his boxers is further proof that he wants this, too.

“Your cock is lovely,” she murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you before. But it’s the truth.” She stops to appreciate his bulge for a moment. The sharp smell of arousal is radiating off of his body in waves and it makes her impatient to touch him. Sherlock’s impatient, too. He’s been fidgeting ever since she left his lap.

Unwilling to wait a second longer, Molly reaches out and lightly strokes him through the cotton of his underwear. Sherlock sighs in response and spreads his legs even wider. Molly continues to run her fingers along his length until he’s fully erect and a small patch of his underwear is soaked through with pre-come.

“You can talk to me, you know,” she teases. She pulls on the elastic waistband of his boxers and lets it snap back against his skin. It’s meant to be playful but Sherlock sucks in a startled breath as if he’s just been slapped and then lets it out, slowly.

“You aren’t normally this…assertive,” he manages.

“Do you like it?”

He lets out another shaky breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again they’re glassy and unfocused. “Yes.”

“Lift your hips, then. I want to see you.”

He immediately does as he is told. The boxers are shed and thrown over Molly’s shoulder before she can remove them herself. She grins at his enthusiasm. “Eager to start?”

His cock answers the question for him by giving a twitch. Sherlock smiles sheepishly and bites his lip. It’s so unlike him, this coy behavior, but as far as she can tell he’s not averse to playing the submissive. To further test this theory Molly purposely slaps his inner thigh, doling out just enough pain to match the sting that the elastic band must have given him.

Sherlock lets out a strangled noise in response and bucks his hips. With a knowing smirk, Molly takes her hand away from him and starts to pull down the waistband of her underwear.

“If you’re not going to talk, make yourself useful by grabbing the lube while I take off my knickers,” Molly orders. She half expects him to talk back to her this time but she’s pleasantly surprised when he obediently scurries to fetch the clear tube from the nightstand drawer.

When she’s done undressing, Sherlock uncaps the lid and passes the bottle to her. Molly makes a point to keep her eyes on him as she pours the oil over her chest and rubs it into her skin. His eyelids flutter as his gaze repetitively shifts from meeting hers to watching what she’s doing with the lubricant. It’s like he can’t decide where to look and Molly loves it. She loves how she’s rendered him incapable of speech. She loves how utterly wrecked he looks with his flushed cheeks, messy hair and hard cock.

And it’s all because of her. She feels a pleasant twist in her gut at the thought.

When everything is nice and slippery, Molly reaches forward and spreads the remainder of the lube along the length of his erection, starting at the bottom and working her way up to the top. She gives the head a little twist for his benefit and Sherlock’s hips jerk at the contact. Molly pushes them back down and inches forward between his spread legs until her chest is pressed against his shaft.

She can already feel how hot his skin is in relation to hers. This is going to be different and certainly won’t as pleasurable for her as when he’s inside of her but then again she’s not doing this for purely selfish reasons. She wants to do this because getting Sherlock off gets her off. The noises he makes, the sheen of his sweat and his body heat are just as arousing as the touches he gives her.

“Molly,” Sherlock whimpers. The sound of his voice sends yet another spark of arousal through her system.

“Look at you,” she purrs, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his cock. She pulls away so as not to give in by taking him into her mouth right away.

“Fuck.” The curse is barely above a whisper but Molly hears it just fine.

“Tell me how much you want this,” she urges, pushing her cleavage together to trap him against her. Sherlock lets out a hiss but doesn’t respond. Molly tilts her chin down to give the head of his cock a tantalizing lick. “Tell me.”

“I don’t…want it. I _need_ it.”

It’s Molly’s turn to swear. She begins to slide her breasts up and down his length, her hands ensuring that the fit is tight. Each time she pauses just a second at the bottom to feel his heavy balls against her chest before she moves back up so that her cleavage pulls the glans over the head of his cock.

It doesn’t take long for her to establish a slow, steady rhythm. Her breasts aren’t big enough to accommodate his entire length and her knees ache from the awkwardness of her position but it’s all worth it. She’s never seen Sherlock like this, thrashing about and fisting his hands in the duvet cover. He’s beautiful, gorgeous, and she can’t help but increase the pace to pay him back for responding so brilliantly.

“Christ. _Molly._ ”

“I want your come.” It’s out of her mouth before she can stop herself but Sherlock isn’t fazed this time. He nods frantically and thrusts his hips to match her movements.

He’s close now, so close, and Molly knows the one thing that will surely push him over the edge is her mouth. It’s not what she originally envisioned, sucking him to completion, but she knows it’s the right decision the moment she swallows him halfway down her throat.

Sherlock’s hip stutter to a halt and his cock pulses. He lets out a string of curses, all of them under his breath and desperate. His hands are no longer bunched into fists. Instead they’ve crept into Molly’s hair. They’re not forceful or uncomfortable. He’s simply holding on to the only thing within his reach that connects him to her.

Molly gives him one last suck so that the length of his cock is spit-slicked and then removes her mouth with a wet pop. She then takes him in hand, positions him over her chest and starts tugging.

“Come on, Sherlock. Give it to me,” she hisses, squeezing him tighter on each upstroke.

Sherlock’s body seizes and he comes on a shout. The first shot of warm ejaculate hits the front of Molly’s throat. It slides down her chest where it’s soon joined by several matching splatters.

His thighs start to quiver when the constant pulling and milking has become too much for him. Molly stops touching him, slowly backs away and then glances down at her chest.

It’s a complete mess. She’s dirty, sticky and the smell of sex is almost overwhelming in the way it’s pervading her senses.

But she absolutely loves it.

“Satisfied?”

Sherlock has fallen back onto the bed. His arms are splayed out on either side of his body and he looks exhausted. He lifts his head for a second to see if she's heard his query and then drops it back down to the mattress. Apparently it’s too much effort.

Molly pushes to stand on her wobbly legs and then gingerly crawls her way back onto the bed. Sherlock’s eying her warily, no doubt worried as to whether she’ll continue to torment him in his spent state.

To put his mind at ease, Molly swipes across the wetness on her chest with her pointer finger. She brings the digit to her mouth and sucks on the tip, reveling in the bitter, salty taste. Sherlock’s mouth is agape as he watches her lick her finger clean of semen.

Molly just smiles around her finger and assures him, “Very.”


End file.
